{"id":87614863,"date":"2011-05-06T00:17:03","date_gmt":"2011-05-06T08:17:03","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.geckotemple.com\/blog\/?p=87614863"},"modified":"2011-05-06T00:18:57","modified_gmt":"2011-05-06T08:18:57","slug":"may-be-day-5","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.geckotemple.com\/blog\/?p=87614863","title":{"rendered":"May-Be: Day 5"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><em><a title=\"No, not really.\" href=\"http:\/\/www.geckotemple.com\/blog\/2011\/03\/21\/no-not-really\/\">No, Not Really<\/a> continues, with respect and condolences for the loss of TV On The Radio bandmate, Gerard Smith.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<br \/>\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" width=\"425\" height=\"349\" src=\"http:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/waRSLMPVzkI\" frameborder=\"0\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe><\/p>\n<p>Goldman sits looking out the window of his apartment on the third floor, the cloud in his head eased into his eyes, looking through him, for him, at him.\u00a0 He sits and watches.\u00a0  Listens to the clock tocking to itself on the mantelpiece as it walks on long-forgotten cobblestones.\u00a0  Cities that don&#8217;t exist any more.\u00a0 Bedroom communities that grew up to be graveyards.<\/p>\n<p>They used to say &#8220;On the internet, nobody&#8217;s knows you&#8217;re a dog.&#8221;\u00a0  Nobody knows anything about him, dog or not.\u00a0  Nobody alive, anyway.\u00a0  His friends all long-gone.\u00a0  His wife was one of the last to go.\u00a0  A Raging Granny until the last few years, and then they got a rec vehicle and watched the world roll by for those last few months together.<\/p>\n<p>Now he watches trains&#8230; and clouds.\u00a0  Trains and clouds and data transfers.\u00a0  Not the big ones, just the pretty ones.\u00a0  The ones that put him in mind of stained glass.\u00a0  The ones that remind him of mornings in church.\u00a0  Of music.\u00a0  Beams through the clouds.\u00a0 In a part of town that&#8217;s all but abandoned, aside from the elderly and the alone.\u00a0 Warehouses of the well worn.<\/p>\n<p><em>I&#8217;m losing my mind<\/em>, he thinks, but not to himself.\u00a0 Thinks it to the <em>other<\/em>.\u00a0 The voice that isn&#8217;t his, that isn&#8217;t him.\u00a0 It argues with him in prose poetry, hits him in his dreams, when he&#8217;s dozing in the sun.\u00a0 <em>I&#8217;m losing my mind, but if I&#8217;m going, I&#8217;m taking you with me.\u00a0 I&#8217;ve got nothing left to lose, so let&#8217;s go.<\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>Let&#8217;s go.\u00a0 Let go.\u00a0 Lego.\u00a0 Ego.\u00a0 Go.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>Tick.<\/p>\n<p><em>No, my mind is my own, I might be losing it, but it&#8217;s mine to lose.\u00a0 You can&#8217;t have it.\u00a0 You don&#8217;t belong here.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>Tock.<\/p>\n<p><em>We&#8217;ll watch the waves.\u00a0 Come sleep.\u00a0 Come back to bed.\u00a0 Nothing to be up for.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>Tick.<\/p>\n<p><em>I&#8217;ve called them.\u00a0 Someone will find me.\u00a0 Someone from before.\u00a0 Someone they won&#8217;t expect, &#8217;cause they won&#8217;t have expected it of themselves.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>Tock.<\/p>\n<p><em>No.\u00a0 Just us.\u00a0 Justice.\u00a0 Think, you Fourier hoarder.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>Tick.<\/p>\n<p>He reaches out to the systems that he once played in when he was young.\u00a0 When the systems were young.\u00a0 Speaks to them through the wires at his wrists.\u00a0 Calls them names they had when their world was young.\u00a0 Names that make them smile.\u00a0 Process with names like Gopher and Archie still remember the voices of the hippies in the hall.\u00a0 He begins to ask them questions that would cause them to ask even stranger ones in return.\u00a0 Lighting the fires in the towers.\u00a0 The signals along the hills.\u00a0 The armada approaches.\u00a0 We need backup.\u00a0 We&#8217;re in danger.\u00a0 Collect the cargo.\u00a0 Women and children first.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>No, Not Really continues, with respect and condolences for the loss of TV On The Radio bandmate, Gerard Smith. &nbsp; Goldman sits looking out the window of his apartment on the third floor, the cloud in his head eased into his eyes, looking through him, for him, at him.\u00a0 He sits and watches.\u00a0 Listens to [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[61],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-87614863","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-not-really"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.geckotemple.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/87614863","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.geckotemple.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.geckotemple.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.geckotemple.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.geckotemple.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=87614863"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"http:\/\/www.geckotemple.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/87614863\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":87614869,"href":"http:\/\/www.geckotemple.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/87614863\/revisions\/87614869"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.geckotemple.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=87614863"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.geckotemple.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=87614863"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.geckotemple.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=87614863"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}